


The Italian Problem

by CavannaRose



Series: Dakota North Investigations [1]
Category: Dakota North - Fandom, Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Magic, Mystery, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: When the heroes had problems, they turned to one private investigator, and because of that now all kinds of weirdness has been cropping up. Dakota has to travel overseas to deal with a problem, before it becomes something that needs the big guns.





	1. Chapter 1

Dakota groaned as the shrill scream of her alarm went off, shattering the early morning peace. Normally, she'd still be in bed for hours yet, as even the ever-present pigeons were still tucked into their nests. Unfortunately, this particular morning she had a conference call with the Rome and Paris offices, which meant she had to drag herself across the city to be in her own main office by 4 o'clock in the morning... not an ideal situation. Grumbling, she almost understood Jessica's need to operate out of her own apartment, but when you worked as hard as Dakota had to build a brand... well that came with more than a couple inconveniences.

She'd never meant to be an international initiative, but with her occasionally rather specialized clientele, there had been a bit of jet-setting a time or two. In the end, she'd established the overseas offices out of convenience, but they hadn't been designed to stay, not originally. Staff she'd hired on in the interim to assist had proven insightful, inventive and diligent, and the bleeding heart inside of her couldn't set them adrift after the work was all done. Now she operated almost seven permanent offices, plus her personal mobile branch. The one here in the Kitchen was an attempt to keep herself in one place for a time. All the travel left her feeling weary, besides, this place needed someone normal to lend a hand. New York was rumoured to house more super powered individual per square mile than anywhere else in the United States of America, maybe even the world, but there were still muggings, murders, and other, more horrible crimes, committed every day. Still, no one pulled up their anchors and sailed out of there. Something about New York drew people in. Harlem, Queens, the Kitchen... people still flocked to them every day, eking out a living in the City of That Never Sleeps.

"Ugh, enough. You're just avoiding getting out of bed." Berating herself for the sluggish musings, Dakota dragged her exhausted frame out of the warm cocoon of blankets that held her hostage. Struggling through her morning routine like the walking dead, she finally managed to make it out the door, even though the sun wasn't quite up yet. Scowling into the darkness, she pulled her leather jacket closer around herself and set off down the street. Maybe she could nap in the couch in the office after the call.

The streets of Hell's Kitchen were quiet in the early hours, as if even New York decided maybe, just maybe it would rest for a moment. In the relative quiet Dakota picked her way across litter-strewn sidewalks, disturbing the odd stray cat... or at least she hoped anything that big and furry was a cat. Distaste creasing her brow, she finally completed the trek to the office, unlocking, and then quickly re-locking, the door. She was absolutely not open for business yet. She had no sooner tossed her jacket on the couch and settled behind her desk when the phone rang. Sighing at the inevitability of it all, she reached out, lifting the receiver and accepting that work had begun for the day.

"Dakota North Investigations, this is Dakota speaking. How can I help you?"

Tinny laughter came down the pipes, and the thickly accented voice of the man who currently headed the Italian office warmed her slightly. "Miss North, you do not sound so very pleased to hear from me this morning. Did you not, perhaps, get enough sleep?"

Perhaps it was juvenile, but Dakota stuck her tongue out at the phone. No one could see her and call her on it after all, and she had a right to be grouchy at four o'clock in the gods-forsaken morning.

"Monsieur Rossi, you must remember that it is very, very early where our fearless leader is currently. Shame on you for teasing." The dulcet tones of the Paris liaison were certainly more comforting than Marco's laughter.

"Thank you Emma, it's nice that at least one of my Agents is on my side."

Marco's voice took on a wounded tone, and she could almost picture the ridiculous face he was making. "Signora Martin! You accuse me of such cruelty so early in the day? I'm wounded!"

Dakota settled back in her chair, listening to the two operatives bicker good-naturedly for a few moments. Marco Rossi and Emma Martin were the backbone of her European operation, and thus despite the early hour, she allowed them their banter. It was not long, however before the tone settled into something significantly more serious. Surprisingly enough it was the Italian who put an end to the playful back and forth.

"Signorina North, I must confess that there is trouble in Roma. We are dealing with a most difficult case, and it reeks of things that are best unsaid, but I will tell you those things you dealt with last time you were here, they were very similar."

Dakota sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. That definitely did not sound good. The case in Italy had involved twisted magics and other such nonsense that normal people weren't supposed to deal with. Unfortunately, Dakota North wasn't normal people anymore. A few tabloids had dubbed her the 'Hero's PI', not exactly a place someone with no extra powers and only the faculties of the average (but exceptional) human could bring to bear,

"We had heard the rumours, Monsieur Rossi, but had hoped they were not true. Do you need for me to send down some agents for assist?" Emma's voice was laced heavily with concern, but Dakota North Investigations didn't currently have any metahumans or magic users on staff, and North hated sending anyone to deal with that kind of nonsense while she stayed home and safe. Sighing, she accepted her fate.

"Don't bother with that unless Louis is back from Guam..." She paused, disappointed when Emma responded in the negative. "Then don't risk the agents, he was the only one with any experience. Rossi, air out the back room I'll be there in..." she booted up the laptop, typing away as soon as the search bar popped up, she punched in a few numbers, double checked the time and groaned. "Twelve hours, give or take whatever delays Alitalia manages to encounter."

"Signorina North... Dakota. It is not necessary. I would not wish to risk you for such-"

Admitting that it was rude to herself, she nonetheless interrupted Marco. "I understand, Rossi, but none of your current agents have the experience or the knowledge I do currently, so I'm on my way. If anything comes up while I'm in transit, send it to my secondary e-mail and I'll catch it as soon as I hit da Vinci-Fiumicino. Okay? Anything else I should worry about?" Both operatives demurred, assuring Dakota that Marco's current problem was the only one that needed her personal attention at this time, and the call disconnected.

For five long, desperate minutes the private investigator sat in her chair, forehead in one hand as she lamented her lost sleep. Marco might be theatrical, but he would not have raised the issue unless his concerns were real. Carefully shutting down her computer, Dakota locked it inside the desk drawer, pulling her emergency bag with her passport, some traveler's cheques and a change of clothes out to make room. She checked over the office thoroughly, grabbing up her leather jacket and locking up tight behind her. Apparently, she was going to Italy.


	2. Chapter 2

Eight grueling hours on an Alitalia flight was almost enough to make Dakota rethink her chosen profession. Her back and neck ached, her backside was numb and walking off the plane she stumbled like a drunk as her nerves painfully came back to life. Surrounded by the press of bodies, she crossed the terminal to the ladies' room, determined to salvage something resembling a human being from her crumpled ensemble. One eye on the mirror, the other on her phone, she flipped through her e-mail updates as she ran a brush through her tangled hair.  
  
There was an update from Rossi, more signs of malicious magic use, this time in Trastevere. She frowned, brow wrinkling as she attempted to remember where that even was. Shooting off an e-mail to let Rossi know she'd check it out before stopping by the office, she googled directions to the district. Without the details from the satellite office, she wasn't sure what she was looking for yet, but after so much time cramped in a plane, she needed to walk. At least this way she could acclimatize to the feel of the area, see if she could spot anything out of the ordinary while still in tourist mode.   
  
She exchanged her money, and had the lovely gentleman and customer service call a car service. Once she arrived in Trastevere, she sent the driver on to her agency's office with her bag, paying him up front so that Marco would not try to overstep and pay for it. He was the employee, but the man had a streak of machismo that made him try to treat her like a woman every time they worked together. He'd already sent her three more e-mails suggesting she should wait for him to accompany her before going in search of the problem that had brought her across the ocean. Dakota scoffed, not even gracing that with an answer, simply informing him that her bag was on it's way and she would see him around 21:00 at the agency office.  
  
Crossing the stone footbridge, she paused to admire the waters of the Tiber, letting her mind relax. She needed to be receptive to whatever was out there, so she took each jumbled thought one by one and put it away inside her mind, until everything was clear and calm. Opening her eyes once more, she turned and wandered into the Piazza di Santa Maria. It was late afternoon, and many of the cafés were closed. Her stomach made a small sound of protest, and she laughed. It would not be the first time she waited between meals, and from what she remembered the food here was worth waiting until the trattorias began opening for dinner.   
  
Tourists bustled about, cameras and phones in front of their faces, but Dakota simply walked, enjoying the scenery and the chaos. All seemed calm, no signs of anything untoward. She greeted those that spoke to her, pausing to take a couple's picture for them as they kissed on the steps of the fountain. When they left, she found herself a seat, half-closed eyes taking in far more of the scenery than might be suspected. It didn't appear that anything was out of the ordinary here, but Rossi had said there had been reports, she just wish she had a better idea of what she was looking for.


	3. Chapter 3

Dakota was not magically sensitive, had no powers at all besides her keen mind and her firearms training, but she had never let that stop her before in pursuit of those that would harm her clients. As she rested under the late afternoon sun in the plaza, her brain slowly sorting through the details of her current case.

The detective lived in a world of facts and science, but that world had proven that magic was real time and time again, so she wouldn't just dismiss it as possibility. If Rossi said it was magic, she was prone to believe him. The man was not prone to flights of fancy, despite his often flowery speech. It was an affectation, played to disarm the tourists and get people to talk to him. She pictured a map of the ancient city, pinpointing the locations of attacks and looking for a pattern, but with a frustrated growl had to accept that there was none evident to her. Not yet. The detective feared that if there was a pattern, more people would die before it became clear, and that kind of inaction was simply anathema to her.

Just then a frisson of warning ran through her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. Slowly as bodies began to move past her, Dakota cracked her eyes open, darting glances around to see what had stirred up the populace. Nothing was evident yet, but a pervasive sense of unease had settled over the Piazza and the denizens therein were responding to it, packing up their belongings and shifting away. Dakota frowned, instinctively reaching for her sidearm, before biting back a curse.

Maybe Rossi was right, maybe she should have stopped by the office first.

Maybes never solved anything though, so she would work with what she had; her wits and unfamiliar territory. Perhaps it wasn't the best arsenal, and it would be better if she spoke the language, but she would work it out along the way. Easing from the steps where she sat, she stayed close to the fountain, skirting around it as the plaza continued to empty. The exodus was more frantic now, and then, up ahead, a shriek of terror. Suddenly the gradually exit transformed into a stampede, a pulsing wave of human faces, twisted in fear as they pushed and swore and did their damnedest to escape.

Dakota jumped up onto the edge of the fountain, holding on for dear life until the crowd thinned enough she could move past it. The screaming hadn't halted up ahead, and finally the tourists had cleared enough so the PI could see what was happening across the Piazza. What she saw was... well it was difficult to process.

The... creature, for it clearly was not a man, stood half again as tall as the man shrieking in it's clawed grasp. The beast looked like someone had blended one of the demons from the frescoes in the museum with a mortal man and set the whole mess on fire, and part of Dakota naturally recoiled as it roared. Still, that was a person it was holding, and she couldn't do nothing.

Frowning, Dakota looked around for something, anything she could use. A weapon. A sign of where it had come from, anything out of the ordinary at all. Finally, she saw. She saw /him/. Out of the corner of her eye, almost as if he wasn't truly there she noticed a young man, achingly beautiful but cruel of feature, leaning against a building and watching the carnage with a nasty little twist of a smile. As far as she could tell he wasn't aware of her, intent instead on the poor trio of tourists that refused to leave their comrade in the arms of the monstrosity that had attacked them all.

Making a split decision, the redheaded detective risked what she had to, leaving the tourists to keep their companion alive as she slunk across the piazza, staying close to signs and benches as she made her way to the man. Finally there was less than a dozen feet between her and her target, and she refused to acknowledge that the poor man who had been first targeted by the monster was no longer screaming, instead the cries were female. Collateral damage was like a blade to her heart, but she had to push on to hopefully prevent more loss of life.

"Oi! What are you up to!" She shouted, dashing across the empty space at a dead run. Startled, the figure's head jerked up, eyes of a pitiless red locking with hers in shock for a split second before she flung herself on the man, if that was what he was. Fingers clenched into a fist she connected with the side of his face, a distinctive cracking sound indicating broken bone. She felt a fleeting moment of triumph before the pain traveled up her arm to her brain, informing her that she was the broken one in this instance.

Growling the man behind her threw her from him, and she connected with the brick of the wall behind her, raising up a cloud of dust and shattered stone. Snarling he advanced upon her, but halted face raising into the air as he sniffed, scenting something she could not detect. The red-eyed man turned, snapping fingers in the air and the beast vanished and then he turned to Dakota once more. Gripping her throat he pulled her close, staring into her so hard she almost felt it in her soul.

"This. Is. Not. Finished."

He threw her again, and she sailed nearly halfway across the piazza, coming to a sudden and crippling stop against the fountain. She felt at least one rib give way, and decided to lay there for a moment before she attempted to rise. One hand carefully moved to the bruised flesh of her neck.

"Well fuck."


End file.
